Busted
by Collie
Summary: What if Dawn discovered Spike in Buffy's room that day, instead of Riley?


TITLE: Busted.   
AUTHOR: Collie.   
RATING: PG.   
FEEDBACK: It's what makes the world go 'round.   
SUMMARY: What if Dawn discovered Spike in Buffy's room that day, instead of Riley?   
SPOILERS: S5 up to 'Shadow'.   
DISTRIBUTION: YGTS?, and Through My Eyes. Anyone else, just let me know.   
DISCLAIMER: Spike and Dawn belong to Joss. Buffy's clothing belongs to her.   
NOTES: Silly fluff piece.   
  
  
"I am *so* telling!"   
  
Spike jumped away from Buffy's dresser, whirling around. He came face to face with the smug countenance of Dawn. She stood in the doorway of Buffy's bedroom, smirking at Spike who was now standing apart from Buffy's dresser, fuzzy pink sweater in hand. Spike's mouth opened and closed, excuses spinning through his mind, but none charitble enough to come out and save his ass. Dawn continuted.   
  
"What are you doing in here?"   
  
Spike cleared his throat, regaining some sense of his Spike-ness.   
  
"Well.. what are *you* doing in here?"   
  
Dawn stepped into Buffy's room, crossing her arms.   
  
"I asked you first."   
  
Spike rolled his eyes.   
  
"Oh, yeah, playground politics. Like that's gonna work."   
  
Dawn quirked an eyebrow, a very amused smile growing on her lips as she gestured to the sweater Spike was holding.   
  
"Were you.. smelling her sweater?"   
  
Spike frowned, quickly shoving the sweater he was holding behind his back, as if he thought she wouldn't see it. He scoffed, looking at Dawn like she was crazy.   
  
"No."   
  
She just stared at him. Spike sighed, bringing the sweater out from behind him, nodding reluctantly.   
  
"Well, yeah, all right, I did. It's a.. predator thing, nothin' wrong with it. Just.. know your enemy's scent, whet the appetite for a hunt."   
  
He brought the sweater up to his face once more, shoving his nose into it, wriggling it around. He inhaled deeply and Dawn wrinkled up her nose in disgust, both at the thought of Spike being so perverted as to be smelling Buffy's sweater, and at thought of Spike even *wanting* to smell Buffy stinky old clothes. Spike let out a sound of satisfaction, his voice raspy and excited.   
  
"Ah, that's the stuff! Slayer musk, it's bitter and aggravating!"   
  
Dawn made a face, covering her eyes with her small hands.   
  
"Ew! That is *so* gross. I can't believe you just said 'musk' in relation to my sister."   
  
Spike smirked, tossing the sweater on Buffy's bed, turning to leave as Dawn lowered her hands.   
  
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?"   
  
Spike stopped at the sound of Dawn's voice. He glanced over at her, slowly raising an eyebrow.   
  
"What, you want me to smell your clothes or somethin'? Feel all left-out?"   
  
Dawn faked a gag, shaking her head.   
  
"Don't be disgusting. No, I just wanted to know if you wanted me to tell Buffy when she got home tonight, so she could find you and dust you as soon as possible, or wait until the morning so you had a head start?"   
  
She smiled smugly, crossing her arms as his eyes widened.   
  
"You wouldn't dare."   
  
"Try me, blondie."   
  
Spike narrowed his eyes, glaring.   
  
"All right, you little nipper -- what do you want?"   
  
Dawn grinned.   
  
"Take me patrolling."   
  
Spike blinked, staring at her like she'd just sprouted another head.   
  
"Are you bloody daft or something? The Slayer would have my knackers for castanetes if she found out I was even *talkin'* to you, let alone voluntarily puttin' you in mortal danger. Not gonna fly, shorty."   
  
Dawn pouted.   
  
"Oh, come on! She never lets me do *anything*! It's like she thinks I'm completely helpless or something. She won't even teach me to fight. She thinks if I know how, then I'll run around trying to Slay stuff or something. But.. I just want to know because, well.. I don't like feeling like she thinks she has to take care of me all the time. I mean, I'm fourteen years old! I'm *almost* as old as she was when she found out she was the Slayer. It's not fair. I just wanna feel like I'm useful and not a burden anymore."   
  
Dawn let out a huge sigh, plopping down on Buffy's bed, chin in hands. Spike rolled his eyes a bit, walking over to stand in front of her.   
  
"It's not that easy, kiddo. Your sister has a bleedin' birthright and all that. You don't. She *has* to kill things. You don't. She only wants to make sure you're safe and all that. You can't blame her."   
  
Dawn shot a glare up at Spike who nodded in reluctance.   
  
"Well, okay, I suppose *you can*.. but it's not gonna get you anywhere. Just let her do her job. She can't do it if she has to worry about you all the time."   
  
Dawn whined, standing up and all but stomping her feet.   
  
"But that's just it! If I *knew* how to take care of myself, she wouldn't *have* to worry about me! And now there's all this stuff happening with mom.. so she has to worry about all of that on top of everything else. It's like she doesn't think I can take care of myself. She's, like, super-robot-overprotective-freak-sister-from-outer-space or something. I can't even cross the street without her watching from the window."   
  
Spike shrugged.   
  
"Sorry, kid. Don't know what to tell--"   
  
But before he could finish his sentance, a huge grin spread out on her face. She directed it towards him. Before she could even utter a word, Spike threw up his hands, shaking his head.   
  
"Oh, no. *Hell* no. Under no bloody circumstances will I teach you to fight. Remember our conversation about Spike's knackers for castanetes? Same rules apply."   
  
Dawn pursed her lips, putting her hands on her hips. She glared at Spike, and Spike's lips quirked as he held back a smile. It was so cute how much she unconsciously immitated Buffy. Her mannerisms, bravado (although where Buffy had the brawn to back it up, Dawn's was quite false), almost funny wittisisms, smugness.. Spike knew she'd be a piece of work when she got older.   
  
"I'll tell Buffy you were in here if you don't."   
  
And we now come crashing back to reality. Spike gritted his teeth, glaring at Dawn.   
  
"That's not fair. You got me by the short and curlies, here, girl. What's a vamp to do? Either way, you sister's gonna make steak tar tar outta my face."   
  
Dawn pursed her lips.   
  
"What, you think I'm just gonna run off and tell her you're teaching me to fight? I thought you vamps were all about secrets, and stealth, and lies and all that junk. I can lie, you know. It's one of the perks of being the youngest."   
  
She smiled, and Spike let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.   
  
"Fine. Okay. You win. But if I end up in an ashtray after all of this is over, make no mistake -- I *will* haunt you forever. Even in the shower."   
  
Dawn smirked, her eyes sparkling mischeviously.   
  
"Okay.. but at least wait a few years so I have something to show off?"   
  
Then she stuck her tongue out at Spike and sauntered past, leaving a very bewildered vamp staring after her. He sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head.   
  
"That's it. I've said it before, and I'll say it again -- goodbye, Picadilly. Farewell, Leicester bloody Square. I'm dust."   
  
He slowly turned to leave, pausing only to snatch a pair of the Slayer's pink panties from a half-open drawer, pocketing them as he followed Dawn down the hall.   
  



End file.
